


Tales From A Blight

by Samii226



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5377886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samii226/pseuds/Samii226
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Blight threatens to devour all of Ferelden, and eventually the world, the newest recruit of the fabled Grey Wardens struggles to stop the impending darkness. </p><p>But she is not alone.</p><p>These are the tales of the fabled Hero of Ferelden and her merry band of misfits...and how they became family.</p><p>AlistairxFemWardenxZeveran, FemWardenxVarious</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Different Kind Of Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> A response to the Love challenge by Byakko-chan, all set in the interactions between a female Grey Warden and her companions during the blight.
> 
> Most of the stories will not involve a specific type of Warden and therefore can be considered for any female Warden, though a few will involve a female Cousland.
> 
> Never done a challenge before so I hope I don't screw it up.
> 
> I don't own anything, just a copy of Dragon Age: Origins.

“Morrigan?” The newest recruit of the Grey Wardens approached Morrigan’s campsite without hesitation.

“Warden,” she answered with a nod, only slightly turning her head away from her campfire.

“You know…” the Warden crossed her arms and smirked slightly, “Our fire works too, it’s not just for show.”

“Considering the…inventive way I saw the dwarf light it with his hind-quarters, I have no doubt.” The witch of the wilds fired back with a barely there smile.

“I mean it Morrigan, why don’t you join us at our campsite? You’re traveling with us, so you should camp with us.” The Warden strolled up closer to the campfire as she spoke.

“I see no need to surround myself with a lecherous assassin, a senile mage, a drunken dwarf, a delusional bard, a flea-ridden mutt, and mabari war-hound.” Morrigan quipped, incensed.

“Mmhmn, still haven’t warmed up to Alistair yet, I see.” The Warden smiled softly, tucking a silky strand of (h/c) behind her ear in an attempt to tame the wild windblown mane.

“Oh I may not have, but the oaf certainly seems to have warmed up to you.” Morrigan snorts, rolling her eyes at something over the Warden’s shoulder. The Warden turned around slightly and caught her fellow Grey Warden very obviously staring at her. She struggled to contain her amusement at the sight of him turning a very peculiar shade of red and stumbling over his bed roll in embarrassment.

“Why Morrigan, do I detect a hint of jealousy?” The Warden faced her apostate friend with a wry grin.

“You aren’t serious, surely? That foolish lout is only proficient in his ability to make my flesh crawl.” Morrigan was indignant.

“Who said I was talking about Alistair?” The Warden taunted, although innocently, her words were enough to make a red cross Morrigan’s face that had nothing to do with the fire.

“…You have been spending too much time with that carrot haired sister.” Morrigan replied after a moment.

“Her name is Leliana, you would know that if you actually spent some time with her…and the rest of us.” The Warden added, returning to her original purpose for the conversation, Morrigan did not fail to notice this and narrowed her eyes in response.

“What is this incessant need to have me spend extended periods of time with complete strangers? My fire here keeps me plenty warm.” Morrigan sighed and watched as the Warden moved to sit on a log across the fire from her.

“Some types of warmth don’t come from fires Morrigan.” The Warden spoke softly, her voice barely noticeable over the sounds of the crackling fire.

Morrigan opened her mouth as if to respond, but closed it quickly, finally she turned away from the Warden, emitting a harsh, mocking laugh as she did so.

“Fine, I can see you’re not ready to join us in healthy camaraderie yet, but you will be. I swear that before this Blight is defeated, you will join us at our campfire.” The Warden smiled with grim determination and turned to return to her other companions.

As the Warden withdrew to her campfire and companions, Morrigan felt her fire burn just a tad colder.


	2. Pray For Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This drabble is based more off my canon playthrough than many of the other drabbles will be. (I swear it will not become a common thing)  
> The idea for this rather morbid, sorry about that by the way, piece came from the way my first Cousland playthrough ended, with her in love with and marrying Alistair, but also in love with Zevran and keeping him as her consort.
> 
> I couldn't help but wonder how everything would play out after the credits ended and the Warden was left alone with her decisions...not to mention I wanted to give an explanation for why she wasn't present with either Alistair or Zevran in Dragon Age 2
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this rare, semidepressing, look into the Warden's post blight life

The once hero, now queen, of Ferelden stared unblinkingly into the fire before her, idly swirling a goblet of the prenatal poultice Wynne had given her as she bit her lip in frustration. The knowing frown that had come from Wynne along with said poultice seared into her mind.

Wynne knew, as she always did, what the queen was hiding. The senior mage had appointed herself the mother figure of the queen and her band of misfits. Although most of the queen’s once companions had left, diverging onto different paths, Wynne remained at her side.

The queen hated being stuck in the castle like this. Without her king…or her consort.

Zevran had left first. The threat of the Crows assassinating him or his beloved had made him restless. He had promised to return once the threat of the Crows were eliminated, and the queen had no doubt of this fact. Nonetheless, going from fighting by his side every day to hoping and praying for his safety was an infuriating change.

He had mentioned discussing the nature of their relationship when he returned as well. The mere thought of it made the queen’s stomach churn. She loved Zevran with all her heart, but she also loved her king. In the year the three had spent together she had never been able to choose between them, much to the twos’ dismay.

When her engagement to the new king had been announced, the queen had managed to lie her way into convincing Zevran to stay with her as a consort, telling him that the marriage to the king was simply political. And vice versa, the queen had spun a web of deceit to convince her king that the elf was there to advise on the prevention of assassination attempts, as a friend.

Lying had never been a common occurrence in the queen’s daily life, but with the arch demon slain she found herself weaving tales of deception constantly just to keep her idyllic life intact.

But this… how could she lie about this?

In just a few short months the truth would come out, quite literally.

Alistair had been told the joyous news prior to his departure to Kirkwall. His treasured queen had been set to accompany him on his trip, but with this monumentally miraculous news he’d insisted she remain safely in the castle. Two Grey Wardens producing a child was such a rare, almost unheard of event that taking his wife on a perilous journey across a sea was not a risk Alistair was willing to take.

The queen wanted to believe the child she carried was the miracle her husband believed it to be. She desired it with all her heart in fact. But the terrifying image of gazing upon her child for the first time and seeing telltale pointed ears plagued her to the point of sleeplessness.

Something in the queen told her that the child she carried would be born the bastard of a Grey Warden queen and an Antivian elven assassin.

There was nothing the queen could do, her own womb would soon bare the fruit of all her deception for the world to see.

Alistair would be forced to condemn the child to a fate that was once his own, lest his virility and even his status as king be disgraced. The child would grow up a bastard in every sense, living far away where his lineage could do no harm. The queen didn’t want to imagine how heartbroken Alistair himself would be, the child he thought was his own personal miracle turning out to be the evidence of his cherished wife’s betrayal. The queen sighed and set her half-full goblet on the end table to her left, the thoughts in her head causing everything she tasted to turn bitter.

Zevran would…for the life of her she had no idea what Zevran would do. He had never expressed any interest in having children, or children at all, for that matter. It was entirely possible that being faced with his own child would cause him to panic and abandon them both.

Of course there was also the possibility that the earring he’d once given the queen was his attempt at expressing his love and he would be over joyed to learn that they’d produced a child.

The queen didn’t know which scenario scared her more.

The sound of footsteps echoing from down the hallway quickly brought the queen to the present. Alistair and Zevran were due to return any day now, and the queen had commanded to be undisturbed until then. That meant that one of them had returned, it was time to face the music.

At the time of the start of the voyage to Kirkwall, the queen had only just discovered her pregnancy, now she was close to the end of it, and was so heavy with child standing for long periods of time was difficult.

But for this, for whomever opened her chamber door, she needed to stand and face them. It was time she told the truth and faced whatever consequences may come. If she didn’t she stood to lose everything she had worked so hard to attain.

With great effort, the queen stood up from her seat, and faced the chamber door. She had faced countless darkspawn, a high dragon, and even an archdemon. She could face this.

But as the footsteps slowed to a stop and her door began to open, a thought flashed through her mind:

 

Please, let him understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, in case this story wasn't hint enough, I won't be posting these drabbles in order as the occured throughout the blight. Although aside from this drabble I don't believe I have any planned that take place after the blight.
> 
> Point of view is subject to change too, sorry about that xO


	3. Gentleness Is The Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran is a tricky character to write for, thats for sure, but this was a fun one to write.
> 
> If anyone feels that any character in this is too OOC please let me know in a review ok?

“…Then you can just do whatever ya please with ‘em?” Oghren’s words made the Warden pause on her way to speak to Leliana.

“Well yes, but not at first, my eager friend. Being too eager can have quite the negative effect in this situation.” Zevran’s words had a similar paralyzing effect on the Warden, who pretended to clean her weapon in order to remain an inconspicuous observer to her companions’ exchange.

“You bleeding Antivan! You just said-” Oghren began to protest but Zevran intervened swiftly.

“A gentle touch is crucial; soft, long caresses turn the person beneath you into a creature fueled by nothing but desire. Then, my friend, anything goes.” The nature of Zevran’s words didn’t surprise the Warden, she could count on her fingers the number of times she’d heard him speak of anything that didn’t involve sex, and this fact caused her curiosity to dim.

The Warden began to continue on her way to Leliana, listening to Zevran repeat his advice on gentleness at least three more times before his Dwarven companion began to understand.

*~~~~~~*

The Warden sighed as she entered her tent and disrobed down to her waist. Another long day of darkspawn killing had left her physically exhausted and extremely tense.

Lying face-down on her bedroll, the Warden attempted to count just how many of the tainted villains she had slain that day.

She had almost neared triple digits when she heard her tent open, she didn’t acknowledge the person entering, as it was the same every night. Instead she closed her eyes and laid her head down on her crossed arms and waited for him to begin.

Zevran had been giving her nightly massages since shortly after his arrival to the Warden’s company; once she had deemed that he wouldn’t try to finish the job that had brought them together in the first place.

The Warden had never anticipated enjoying these nightly sessions with the elf who had almost ended her life as much as she did. His incessant attempts at wooing her had been irritating at first, but just as she had begun to almost enjoy them, he’d stopped coming on quite as strong.

The Warden had been so deeply contemplating Zevran’s recent behavior that she didn’t notice there was something different in tonight’s massage until her masseuse leaned in a tad too closely and she felt his body press into hers.

“Woah, look Zev, if you can’t keep that little assassin in your breeches then we might as well just stop right here.” The Warden chastised her aroused companion in a joking manner. She then noted that there was something else different about this massage. Zevran had rough hands by the nature of his work, but his long, slender fingers didn’t feel quite right tonight. Instead they felt rather short…and stubby…almost like…

“I’m sorry Darlin’, ain’t no assassin in the world that can resist a target like this!” Oghren exclaimed, short, stubby fingers grabbing the Warden’s hindquarters roughly.

The Warden turned to Oghren with eyes darker than the Black City and made a sound so horrific that from across the campsite, even Sten flinched at the noise.

In one swift move, the Warden lifted herself from under Oghren’s form and launched such a fierce kick to his midsection that he was sent flying backwards out of her tent until he landed with a skidding stop by the campfire.

“Aha I knew I’d get me hands on that rump roast eventually!” Oghren heaved drunkenly with laughter, completely undeterred by his female companion’s reaction.

“Ahh, speaking of roasting rumps…” Alistair gestured at Oghren’s, which had ended up too close to the campfire and was now beginning to catch on fire.

Oghren yelped frantically and bellowed nonsense all the way to the nearest body of water… which was a good half mile away.

Alistair watched Zevran approach the Warden’s tent and poke his head inside

“Now, why are you looking so crossly at me my Dear? I did tell him the key was to be gentle.” Shortly after Zevran uttered those words, a loud ‘Crack!’ filled the air.

Zevran stumbled out of the Warden’s tent with a bright red handprint stretched across his face. Alistair couldn’t help but be a tad delighted at the dejected look on the elf’s face.

“Do not worry, I am sure she will calm down momentarily. After all, how was I to know that the woman the dwarf spoke of was indeed her?” Zevran said after noticing Alistair’s expression, rubbing his cheek mindfully.

“Alistair!” The Warden called sweetly “Would you mind finishing my massage?”

Alistair beamed at these words and swaggered past his elven rival, whose mood seemed to darken by the second.

“The key is to be gentle, right? I’ll be sure to remember that.” Alistair smirked victoriously, entering the Warden’s tent and closing it tightly behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Alistair/Zevran rivarly over the Warden is to be expected right? 
> 
> I mean how can I resist? lol


End file.
